


Deck the Halls with Knives and Arrows

by gwynhefar



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwynhefar/pseuds/gwynhefar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever said Christmas and weapons don't mix?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deck the Halls with Knives and Arrows

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Feelstide prompt #113: Clint & Natasha decorate the tree with shurikens and knives

It starts with the stars.  Not the massive flaming balls of gas in the sky - the little metal disks with sharp points that kill you.  
  
The tree had been set up in the Tower common room, against Tony’s wishes, because Steve has amazing puppy-dog eyes.  The first tree Tony had ordered was sent back, after Steve solemnly informed Tony that a white artificial tree pre-decorated with flashy, expensive ornaments is even worse than no tree at all.  And if there was a hint of pity in his tone, Tony absolutely didn’t notice.  But he returned the plastic tree and had Happy go out to one of those tree farms and find the largest, nicest tree he could and then slaughter it so that Steve could have his ideal Christmas.  Even if Steve didn’t actually appreciate Tony pointing out that the tree was only pretty and green because it hadn’t figured out it was dead yet.  
  
But once the tree is finally set up in the the corner, radiating Christmas cheer and homey pine scents that make him sneeze, Tony refuses to have anything else to do with it.  He is a little surprised that the tree remained bare for the first few days, but doesn’t say anything for fear of inspiring Steve to insist on a family decorating event.    
  
Tony hasn’t decorated a tree since he was eight. That was the year his mother had spent screaming at his father, who was on at least his fifth scotch of the day, that he was a horrible parent if he couldn’t at least get up off his ass and help his poor innocent son decorate the tree.  Tony wanted to protest that he didn’t need a tree, really he didn’t, but his mother kept shoving ornaments into his hand and if he didn’t at least try to look happy to be hanging them, the screaming got worse.  After that, the Stark family Christmas trees always came pre-decorated.  
  
Then ornaments begin to show up on the tree a few at a time, like watching the whole decorating process in slow motion.  An inquiry to JARVIS reveals that Steve had asked that everyone provide their own ornaments for the tree, and amazingly, the others are actually doing it.  Tony watches the proceedings with the same interest he usually gives to otherwise reasonably intelligent people doing ridiculous stupid things, and is quickly able to tell which Avenger has hung which ornaments.  
  
Steve’s contributions, of course, are always classic and old-fashioned: blown-glass balls and tin icicles and glittery paper animals he probably draws himself.  Thor is obsessed with Santa figures, although Tony is skeptical about his claim that the myth of Santa descended from his father’s habit of flying around on his magical eight-legged horse Sleep-near and leaving candy for the good children who left out a treat for his horse.  Bruce likes miniature ceramic plates with winter landscapes painted on them.  
  
Tony initially assumes that Clint and Natasha have the good sense to ignore this whole crass, fake, feel-good holiday.  That’s when the first star appears.  


 

  
  
“Did you know someone put a weapon on our tree?” Bruce asks one day when he catches Tony in the kitchen threatening the coffee maker.  
  
“Huh?” Tony replies eloquently, still glaring at the appliance as if he can force it to brew faster with heat of his glare.  
  
“A _weapon_ , Tony.  On our _tree_.”  
  
“There are no weapons on the tree, Bruce.  I would have noticed that because that would have been awesome,” Tony replies, finally snatching his mug out from under the coffee maker and inhaling half the potent sludge in two quick gulps.  
  
“Come see,” Bruce says, and heads back into the living area.  Feeling a hundred percent better, Tony follows.  “Look,” Bruce says, pointing to a shiny silver ornament with gold-tipped points.  
  
Tony looks.  “It’s a star,” he concludes with a shrug.  
  
“It’s a _throwing_ star, Tony.  A shuriken.”  
  
“Huh,” Tony hums, leaning in for a closer look and running a finger carefully along one pointed edge.  Yup, he thinks, sticking the finger in his mouth to suck up the blood, it’s sharp.  
  
“A thousand dollars says it’s Natasha,” Tony challenges.  Bruce rolls his eyes.  
  
“Of course it is,” he says, shaking his head and wandering back toward his lab.

 

 

  
  
The next day there are several more shuriken on the tree -- most silver, but some gold, each formed slightly differently and most with some sort of symbol or decoration etched into the metal.  Knots and swirls and chinese dragons etched in red and there’s even a green one shaped like a wreath.  They really do make good ornaments, although Tony’s not sure how to feel about the fact that the tree can now kill him if it gets bored with making him sneeze.  
  
The shuriken are followed up by decorative arrowheads - each clearly functional despite the fact that they have winter scenes carved into the center.  When the arrowheads are followed by small throwing knives with elaborate handles, Tony begins to suspect that there is some sort of competition going on between Natasha and Clint.  His suspicion seems confirmed when the tree suddenly sprouts colourful bundles of feathers that on closer inspection, are apparently attached to blowgun darts.  The others have increased their own ornament output to compensate, and it’s a large tree, but the overall effect is one of efficient lethality.  Tony finds it oddly appropriate for an Avengers’ tree.  
  
Whatever kind of contest Clint and Natasha are running, everyone’s steering well clear, and actually talking about the tree has become taboo.  Still, the tree has slowly become a reflection of the personalities of the team.  Tony’s not the last holdout though.  There is one other person living in the tower who has yet to contribute any ornaments - then again, Tony’s pretty sure he’s the only one who noticed when Phil moved in with Clint and Natasha.  Nothing gets past JARVIS.  So despite the tiny part of him feeling a bit left out, Tony resolves to hold to his principles.  He can’t possibly be the one to give in before Agent Agent - that would just be embarrassing.  
  
Tony remains firm until the day he find the tree adorned with a dozen shimmering silver snowflakes.  No two alike.  Made out of paperclips.  
  
Tony immediately turns on his heel and stalks down to his workshop.  He is going to make the best, most _awesome_ ornaments ever.  They’re going to have moving parts, and play Christmas carols whenever someone walks past.  They’re going to be annoying as hell and they’re going to zap anyone who tries to turn them off.  And self-hanging, of course.  And maybe he’ll even install an AI - because everything is better with an AI.  
  
Humming “Deck the Halls” under his breath, Tony gets to work.  


 

  
  
In the huge bed that dominates the bedroom on the floor designated for Hawkeye and the Black Widow, Phil lies on his back between Clint and Natasha, a blissfully smug expression on his face.  All three are sweaty, naked, and utterly spent.  
  
“I still can’t believe you won,” Clint mumbles into Phil’s shoulder as Tasha reaches a hand down and pulls up the comforter to cover sweat-chilled skin.  “You had the fewest!”  
  
“It’s about quality, not quantity, Barton,” Phil says in a tone of mild reproach, but he bends his head to place a kiss on Clint’s temple.    
  
“And you’re quality goods, right sir?” Tasha says with a smirk, angling herself up until she’s lying half on Phil’s chest and drawing him into a slow, exploratory kiss.  A few locks of her hair fall onto Clint’s face and he raises a hand to brush them away irritably.    
  
“Kiss-ass,” he mutters, but he moves his hand to Tasha’s back, fingers running up and down her spine in soft, smooth strokes.  
  
“That too,” Tasha says with a grin as she pulls back from Phil to lunge across Clint, lips puckered, aiming for a certain portion of his anatomy.  Clint catches her, laughing, and rolls to the side until they are both tangled up together, each securely pinned by the other.  
  
“Children, children,” Phil says, but he is leaning on his side, watching them with a smile and his tone is more fond amusement than reprimand.  
  
“Tree topper tomorrow, right?” Natasha asks, as she disentangles herself from Clint and squeezes into the small gap between him and Phil, nodding at the night-table, where a large silver and gold disk lays in a bed of wire and lights, golden arrowheads attached to the rim like the rays of the sun and an intricate pattern of connected paperclips webbing the center.  
  
“Yep,” Clint murmurs as he reaches up to scrape his teeth across her earlobe, eliciting a shiver and a gasp.  “Just gotta finish weaving the lights on the chakram.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't know, a chakram is a sharp edged metal throwing disk - like the one Xena uses.


End file.
